[She curses, breathless and immediate, shuddering into the touch. Her hands grip at the front and back headrests for lack of anyplace else to put them; her wings flex eagerly]
[Another lick, long and deliberate, with the flat of his tongue. He makes a "hmm?" sort of sound without stopping, which probably adds an interesting element of vibration to the mix]
[A vine nudges at her thigh, whisper-soft, with a tickle of leaves; another rustles deliberately through the feathers at the base of her wings]
[Another lick, deeper than before, and another, after that; one of the vines curls almost lazily around her side, stroking idly over her ribs, as the other ruffles through her feathers]
[All along the vine coiled about her torso, tiny white flowers have begun to bloom, the stamens long and yellow. There's a strong scent to them, a scent like honey and summer; from some reason, even breathing it in seems to rachet the heat inside her higher]
[It would've been hard to avoid taking in the sweet scent even if she'd wanted to, her breaths already on the shallow side. But it's nice--sweet and familiar and him--and she doesn't notice the tingling warmth until it's already settled deep in her core and eased through her limbs. After that it's impossible to ignore--the sudden awareness of every square centimeter that they touch, each nerve turned up to eleven.
With a breathless gasp she shifts against him, the coiling vines and the brush of his hands, his chest--the thick, soft pressure of his tongue, still light but impossibly intense--
This time when she calls his name it's high-pitched and urgent, a wave of arousal dripping over his face as her lips work against him]
[He makes a reassuring sort of hum - laps in deeper few a long few seconds, before pulling back to focus on the sensitive nub at the front, instead]
[Where his tongue is no longer delving, she feels a gentle nudge as a vine coils loosely around her thigh and then slips between then, teasing at her entrance]
[She groans as he pulls away, the sound going stuttered and strained as he moves to her clit instead. Her hips rock forward, immediate and intent--shift back into the faint and apparently welcome pressure at her entrance.
Another shudder as her wings rustle against the roof--into his hands--anywhere for more of that tingling contact, same as the sweet scent in her nostrils]
[The vine at her entrance presses slowly inward, easing its way in between the slick folds; the one curled at the base of her wings hasn't stopped shifting, pressure firm and pointed. His hands take the invitation, too, petting along her wings as she pressesthem against him]
[His mouth is perhaps the busiest of all, though; he laps against her clit in short, quick strokes, starting up a steady rhythm]
[Even as he starts a rhythm she loses it, grinding helplessly into the wet of his tongue and the blunt pressure over her back and her wings. The vine at her entrance earns a hero's welcome, drawn deeper into her slick passage with an ease he's never had in all their previous encounters.
Here, like this, there seems to be no shame in the desperate sorts of noises she makes as he ventures forth--while plenty tight, there's no additional tension stopping him from easing in deeper, just lubrication enough that even a vine has no concerns about friction even as she clenches and releases around him.
Her limbs spasm, talons digging into the upholstery for better leverage, and her abdomen goes tight, panting out more breathless pleas for more--to please don't stop]
[For all he was teasing earlier, he seems to be making up for it now, tongue keeping up the same rhythm, lapping at her firm and steady. Inside, the vine eases further - deeper than his fingers can reach, and slightly thicker, besides. It shivers its way out again, as though restless, before pressing in again, shallow thrusts as its counterpart ripples along her wings, stretching out to touch more of them]
[Even if he had, there'd be nothing she could do--the intoxicating scent of his blooms fill the humid air of the backseat, amping his breath against her lips and the seat against her legs and even the thin fabric of her bra over her breasts to wildfire over her skin. Even without him continuing to stoke it, the feeling would rage; with him working at her seriously, she feels gloriously, mindlessly good.
Her wings flare out as if they simply cannot keep still, pressing into his touch with the same uneven rhythm that she rocks into the heat of his mouth--attempts to shift around the too full-not full enough stretch around the thick vine within her. By now her breaths are sharp grackle cries, rising with each mindshaking thrust until her voice catches--her whole body clenching vise-tight around him]
[If anything, her reaction seems to spur him on; his tongue laps quick and attentive against her clit, and the vine inside her obliges, the shallow thrusts becoming deeper now, firmer]
[His hands are warm on her thighs, tracing over the sensitive skin; another vine twines its way idly around her tail feathers and then goes mostly limp, the weight of it hanging there a constant, steady tug]
[Its all so much--maybe too much. Even so she cries out wordlessly for more; spreads her legs further even as she shudders with release, head thrown back and eyes lidded. Everyplace he touches her feels like a live wire, while anyplace left out aches for attention, even as she drenches the vine that twists deeper within her than she'd thought things could go.
But this isn't the time for thoughts--it's the time for feelings--heat--and all she can do is squirm closer, trying to feel more.
Somehow through the haze she extricates her talons from where they've punctured the seat backs to run her hands roughly over her skin instead, squeezing at her modest chest and scraping down her body to curl into his hair for as long as she can stand before returning up her body. She can't quite manage words again yet, but the pleading in her tone is unmistakable]
[As though in response to the wordless plea, more vines unfold, looping loosely around her torso, shifting and rustling restlessly. The flowers have dried, their petals drifting to the car seat and the floor; there is no new pollen added to the air, now, but what remains is still sweet and heady]
[His hands rub restless against her thighs, up and then down again, as though he can't get enough of the feel of her; his tongue works eagerly against her, as though attempting to answer her cry. The vine inside her twists and coils along with its thrusts, the odd ridges as it shifts adding perhaps an extra layer of sensation as it catches against that spot inside her]
[The ridges don't quite hit her like that each time--which is for the best, since the first time the vine twists just so, curling in towards the front of her pelvis, her vision goes white. By the third, she's arched forward enough that her head rests against the tinted window, fogged as she shakes out another moan. Her hips artlessly tumble forward, wings and tail jerking against the seats and into the vines tangling over her skin, and she squeezes around him tightly enough that it's difficult to move.
The sweet scent of his flowers is deep in her nose as she writhes against him, pressing into his touch best she can. By now she can manage at least one word--please--and she groans it out as he twists over her chest and her wings and her thighs, as if even this much of him isn't yet enough.]
[He makes a soft sound against her, something like a muffled moan; the vibration of it comes through with the contact, adding another layer to the sensation wrapping in around her. One of his hands comes away from her thigh, only to be replaced by the coiling lenth of a vine looping gently around her and curling up toward her navel]
[A moment later and he makes another of those sounds, shifting beneath her even as he redoubles his efforts. He's lapping at her almost feverishly, now; the vines around her torso shift and shiver, new leaves tickling over her skin. Inside, the vine has shuddered to a stop, forced to stillness by the grip of her. It wriggles, instead; the ridge presses outward against that spot, providing a steady, dull pressure - gentle kneading without the fuller thrusts of before]
[She seems feverish herself; skin blazing and goosepimpled, breath strained and increasingly uneven. The tighter the grip of the vines around her the more she writhes into them, the rise of her cries and the jut of her chest much more encouragement than protest.
Already--still--her toes curl and tail bobs as she climaxes yet again--not that she ever really comes down between the vine milking her g-spot and the leaves brushing over her skin and feathers and the heat of his tongue and the vibrations of his mouth. She's completely at his mercy, warbling out harsh and desperately pleasured sounds with each move he makes]
[The good news is that the lingering pollen in the air is all but gone, now; the differently good news is that it's because they've inhaled it all, between the two of them]
[The vines at her chest twitch and curl, a rhythmic sort of squeeze and rustle; the ones in her wings are joined by still more, as though they're trying to touch every part of her]
[He continues to lap at her near desperately; if she has the presence of mind to listen for it, she can pick up the sound of something wet and rhythmic that is not the vine inside her or the urgent working of his tongue]
[With the amount of pollen still singing through her veins, it's hard for her to have presence of mind to do anything at all. It's sheer need and desire that urges her onward, muscles straining as she shakes against him again and again.
Every so often--so long as her mouth is empty, at least--she manages to pant out his name, or a fresh plea for more, even as her face is sweaty and plum-dark with all he's given her already. Her talons dig deeper into the padding of the seats, ripping lines through the leather as she tenses against that hardworking tongue]
[It might be easier to pick up when he starts whining softly - when a series of low vibrations join the slick, wet sensation of his tongue as he laps at her]
[For long moments he works at her, restless, the whines become more urgent - higher pitched. He's moving beneath her - shifting - his hand working restlessly to ease the ache of the pollen that's settled in for him, as well]
[Shaking off the raw feeling of desire enough to do anything other than squirm against him is no easy feat. But when she finally does force dewy eyes to look back for that squelching noise that doesn't quite match the rhythm within her, the sight is more than worth the effort.
The strain of his abs and thighs--the urgency of his pace--the way the red of his prick disappears into his fist--the heightening whines buzzing against her clit as he does-- Her hips judder and drool at the sight of it--the now-obvious shifts as he works himself--and she groans along with him, cursing and calling his name.
Between the angle and the talons, there isn't a lot she can do to help him directly. Instead, she shifts against the network of vines touching her--touching him back, hoping those vines are as sensitive as his leaves were before. She even leans towards the nearest vine, offering it a wet kiss]
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Re: Nemesis
Should know whose fault that is...
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[Another kiss, just as soft]
You mind if I try the other stuff, too? Like... the vines and whatever? Pollen?
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Yeah. If there's something you wanna do...you don't gotta hold back.
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[He brings his hands up to smooth along her thighs, gentle - then he leans back in and licks a long stripe right up the center of her folds]
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Jacob...
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[A vine nudges at her thigh, whisper-soft, with a tickle of leaves; another rustles deliberately through the feathers at the base of her wings]
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Yes...
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[All along the vine coiled about her torso, tiny white flowers have begun to bloom, the stamens long and yellow. There's a strong scent to them, a scent like honey and summer; from some reason, even breathing it in seems to rachet the heat inside her higher]
Re: Nemesis
With a breathless gasp she shifts against him, the coiling vines and the brush of his hands, his chest--the thick, soft pressure of his tongue, still light but impossibly intense--
This time when she calls his name it's high-pitched and urgent, a wave of arousal dripping over his face as her lips work against him]
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[Where his tongue is no longer delving, she feels a gentle nudge as a vine coils loosely around her thigh and then slips between then, teasing at her entrance]
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Another shudder as her wings rustle against the roof--into his hands--anywhere for more of that tingling contact, same as the sweet scent in her nostrils]
Yes...yes, more...
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[His mouth is perhaps the busiest of all, though; he laps against her clit in short, quick strokes, starting up a steady rhythm]
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Here, like this, there seems to be no shame in the desperate sorts of noises she makes as he ventures forth--while plenty tight, there's no additional tension stopping him from easing in deeper, just lubrication enough that even a vine has no concerns about friction even as she clenches and releases around him.
Her limbs spasm, talons digging into the upholstery for better leverage, and her abdomen goes tight, panting out more breathless pleas for more--to please don't stop]
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[For all he was teasing earlier, he seems to be making up for it now, tongue keeping up the same rhythm, lapping at her firm and steady. Inside, the vine eases further - deeper than his fingers can reach, and slightly thicker, besides. It shivers its way out again, as though restless, before pressing in again, shallow thrusts as its counterpart ripples along her wings, stretching out to touch more of them]
Re: Nemesis
Her wings flare out as if they simply cannot keep still, pressing into his touch with the same uneven rhythm that she rocks into the heat of his mouth--attempts to shift around the too full-not full enough stretch around the thick vine within her. By now her breaths are sharp grackle cries, rising with each mindshaking thrust until her voice catches--her whole body clenching vise-tight around him]
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[His hands are warm on her thighs, tracing over the sensitive skin; another vine twines its way idly around her tail feathers and then goes mostly limp, the weight of it hanging there a constant, steady tug]
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But this isn't the time for thoughts--it's the time for feelings--heat--and all she can do is squirm closer, trying to feel more.
Somehow through the haze she extricates her talons from where they've punctured the seat backs to run her hands roughly over her skin instead, squeezing at her modest chest and scraping down her body to curl into his hair for as long as she can stand before returning up her body. She can't quite manage words again yet, but the pleading in her tone is unmistakable]
Re: Nemesis
[His hands rub restless against her thighs, up and then down again, as though he can't get enough of the feel of her; his tongue works eagerly against her, as though attempting to answer her cry. The vine inside her twists and coils along with its thrusts, the odd ridges as it shifts adding perhaps an extra layer of sensation as it catches against that spot inside her]
Re: Nemesis
The sweet scent of his flowers is deep in her nose as she writhes against him, pressing into his touch best she can. By now she can manage at least one word--please--and she groans it out as he twists over her chest and her wings and her thighs, as if even this much of him isn't yet enough.]
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[A moment later and he makes another of those sounds, shifting beneath her even as he redoubles his efforts. He's lapping at her almost feverishly, now; the vines around her torso shift and shiver, new leaves tickling over her skin. Inside, the vine has shuddered to a stop, forced to stillness by the grip of her. It wriggles, instead; the ridge presses outward against that spot, providing a steady, dull pressure - gentle kneading without the fuller thrusts of before]
Re: Nemesis
Already--still--her toes curl and tail bobs as she climaxes yet again--not that she ever really comes down between the vine milking her g-spot and the leaves brushing over her skin and feathers and the heat of his tongue and the vibrations of his mouth. She's completely at his mercy, warbling out harsh and desperately pleasured sounds with each move he makes]
Re: Nemesis
[The vines at her chest twitch and curl, a rhythmic sort of squeeze and rustle; the ones in her wings are joined by still more, as though they're trying to touch every part of her]
[He continues to lap at her near desperately; if she has the presence of mind to listen for it, she can pick up the sound of something wet and rhythmic that is not the vine inside her or the urgent working of his tongue]
Re: Nemesis
Every so often--so long as her mouth is empty, at least--she manages to pant out his name, or a fresh plea for more, even as her face is sweaty and plum-dark with all he's given her already. Her talons dig deeper into the padding of the seats, ripping lines through the leather as she tenses against that hardworking tongue]
Re: Nemesis
[For long moments he works at her, restless, the whines become more urgent - higher pitched. He's moving beneath her - shifting - his hand working restlessly to ease the ache of the pollen that's settled in for him, as well]
Re: Nemesis
The strain of his abs and thighs--the urgency of his pace--the way the red of his prick disappears into his fist--the heightening whines buzzing against her clit as he does-- Her hips judder and drool at the sight of it--the now-obvious shifts as he works himself--and she groans along with him, cursing and calling his name.
Between the angle and the talons, there isn't a lot she can do to help him directly. Instead, she shifts against the network of vines touching her--touching him back, hoping those vines are as sensitive as his leaves were before. She even leans towards the nearest vine, offering it a wet kiss]
Re: Nemesis
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